Blind Stars
by Firedawn'd
Summary: "There was a man who loved the moon, but whenever he tried to embrace her, she broke into a thousand pieces and left him drenched with empty arms." - After Apollo's fateful ceremony, Artemis stumbles into the forests and ends up in a cave with a Hunter. The concept of Love was a far cry from Chaste—a spiraling dark hole, one as tempting as Tartarus might've been; and yet, she fell.
1. Blank Glare

_"Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars."_

 _― **J.R.R. Tolkien** , **The Lord of the Rings**_

* * *

''Aphrodite never finds love,'' the Moon Goddess smiled slightly, as she sat by the fountain on Olympus, with the Goddess of Wisdom and the Queen of the Underworld listening in. ''She but binds souls; twists fates; and lets the mortals fall in love with the love she'll never find.'' Then, with a smirk on her face, she added: ''And as a maiden goddess myself, I cannot believe that she doesn't see it as clearly as I do.''

Athena and Persephone both let out a chuckle that day. But the Love Goddess, entering through the arches that led to the fountain had heard the Maiden's condemnation, and it was at night, in light of the Full Moon, that she struck.

''I curse you, Moon Goddess!'' the Love Goddess screamed once they exited the Throne Room. The Moon Goddess but gave a glance to Aphrodite—who seethed with rage.

''Artemis, in the name of the pyres of love; the inextinguishable eyes of eternal flame; and the fervor that one many a man kills for; _I curse you!_ Scarred by your bow and the unholy grace of your silver heart, an ornate man one befriends and dooms to its death—I swear, by everything that I hold dear, by the unforgiving flames of love and hate and pain alike—Heartbreak _will break you!'_ '

Artemis stilled. And before Aphrodite could utter another word, she laughed, loud and strong, laughed like she'd never laughed before.

''Curse?'' She choked out, amidst fits of giggles. ''You _curse me?_ An eternal maiden who doesn't fall under your sphere of influence?'' She laughed even harder now, tears forming in her eyes. ''Good luck with that,'' the Moon Goddess snickered, and walked away without turning back.

* * *

 _There was a time when she was young without a care._

 _There was a time when she loved no-one; hated anyone who dared oppress her._

 _There was a time when she cared naught but for the Moon; her Duty; and the Stars._

 _She wished she could take back her words._

* * *

'' _And now, we shall crown Phoebus Apollo as the god of the Sun, the Light, the Music, and Prophecy. Please, sound your commendations.''_

 _Polite applause erupted from the crowd. Apollo smiled with radiance, effectively hiding whatever nervousness or agitation he had. He took a quick glance towards Artemis, who returned a quiet smile. Behind the pedestal where Apollo stood in all his glory, Helios looked on kindly, his body emitting a dying light, ready to initiate the ceremony whenever the word was given._

 _There was a burst of blinding light._

 _And then she saw nothing but the throbbing pain in her head, her body, and most importantly, her eyes._

 _It was searing, as if a fire had been lit from the within and was burning her from the out. All around her, the dim cheering of the crowd was heard, but her mind was far from that._

 _Pain… the **pain** …_

 _It was unbearable._

 _Tossing aside the furry robe she was given by Zeus, she blindly ran away from the crowd, and towards the clearing, where she knew the dense forests stood. She didn't care where she was going… just somewhere, where she couldn't feel the warmth of light or the acute burn from the sun._

 _The humid canopy brought her temporary sanctuary, but the light still crisscrossed from the gaps in between of the trees. She saw herself, running as if there was no end, waiting, waiting, for the daylight to disappear and for her territory, for the night sky to cleanse the light._

 _In the midst of the forests, she stopped in a haze of blinding pain and dropped to the ground. The dirt felt moist against her touch. Grasping a fistful in her hand, she clenched it tightly, as if she could mirror her pain onto something else… but felt something crawling within._

 _What?_

 _Hesitantly, she brushed a hand onto the creature. It was smooth, glossy, and as she ran her fingers over the shell, temporarily distracting her from the unforgiving burn, an idea began to form in her head._

 _Not an idea. A realization._

 _It was an insect. Not just any, though._

 _It was a type of troglobite. And troglobites only existed within caves._

 _Which meant…_

 _She grasped for more fists of dirt, crawling amongst the muddy grounds, trying to find more troglobites, and then she felt it._

 _A blast of cool air, a relieving parallel to the light that shone so painfully earlier. She crawled further within the cave system, and as she went further, the pain dimmed so…_

 _But not enough._

 _It was still there, like a crackle or a sting, a haze of torment and she could only sit and wait. She pulled her knees to her shaking body and huddled there, waiting…_

 _Waiting for the sun to set._

 _Suddenly, she heard another set of footsteps, riveting around the walls of the cave. Under the indistinct pain, she tried to be alert; lifting her head so and drawing her bow, but her slight trembling hands couldn't draw straight. The footsteps echoed; and stopped, right in front of her huddled form. He stared—and she thought of the worst—before he knelt down and put a comforting hand on her shoulder._

'' _Are you alright?'' he asked worriedly. Artemis shook her head no, too dazed to comprehend… but managed a weak push in an effort to shake the man's placating hand off of her shoulder._

 _But if there any indication of her weak attempt, it was that the man knelt down and comforted her still. There was no attempt at what… most males would've done in their position, and the only thing he seemed to try was to calm her down and wipe away a bead of sweat from her contorted grimace._

 _She tried to yell stop, tried to push him away even if he didn't do anything wrong, but she couldn't find the strength to speak._

'' _Don't worry,'' she heard him promise. ''I'll keep you safe.''_

 _It was the last thing she heard before all went dark._

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading!

This story will be based on Artemis/Orion, from their love to their death—since there's simply not enough of them on here. This is also a loose prequel to Raze that explains Artemis' backstory over there.

Let me know your thoughts below!


	2. Unsightly Connection

_''Some things we can't just see. Some things we just have to feel, and we have to trust that it's there.''_

* * *

Artemis woke with a start.

At first, she heard nothing but shrill buzzes in her ear, as if she was under a bee's canopy. But when she tried to open her eyes, and when nothing responded but the stark darkness, she remembered everything. Her... predicament. Her _eyes_. The acute burning pain from the sun. From _Apollo's sun._

How it wasn't just a nightmare, and how much she wished it just was.

And most of all, the man at her side, who whispered a mound of meaningless words in her ear, tried to comfort her shaking self, who _violated her boundaries_. Whom of which was at the far end of the cave, the endless noise of grinding against bowl grating on her ears.

''I'm currently brewing a herb that'll help relieve the pain,'' he said. She tensed up at the sound of his voice, drawing up quickly against the wall. Perhaps he noticed her tense, for he added: ''Don't worry; no harm will come to you from it.''

''And how would you know?'' Artemis responded bitterly, in an effort to antagonize this man. She still hadn't forgiven him for touching her, a _virgin goddess,_ and a man-hater at that.

In the back of her mind though she knew he was speaking the truth—he sounded, and moved as if he were a hunter—and of course, all hunters had learned through trial and error whether if a herb or fruit was poisonous or not.

''I've learned it during my stay in the Crete's forests,'' he said casually. Another light scoff came from her. _Men and their boasting ways._

''Hey!'' The man's indignancy made her whip her head around. ''Don't belittle me—I'm just trying to help.''

 _What part of your stay in the Crete would help me?_ However, instead of retorting, Artemis stilled and thought about her current situation. She was in a cave, with a man in the far end. Apollo's ceremony was during dawn. Her eyes were still throbbing, but at a lesser volume than it had before. If she had to guess, it would be around midday or late afternoon.

Without another word, she grasped against the cold hard rock walls and began to follow it to the exit—but not before the man let out a cry.

''Wait!'' He called. ''Don't leave yet. I can help.''

''And with what?'' Artemis retorted. ''Your herbs?'' The goddess almost laughed a hollow laugh. There was nothing he could do, not unless he could cure her eyes and return her to normality.

If the man was hurt, he didn't comment on it. He should be glad that Artemis hadn't even touched upon his violation of her earlier. He was lucky to still be alive, and that was only due to her dazed state then. If she wanted to, she would've transformed him into a jackalope in an instant for even daring to touch her.

 _But why didn't you?_

Ignoring that unpleasant though for now, she addressed the other thought that nagged in the back of her mind. _Where was Apollo?_ She would've thought that he would at least be here, or even at least would've tried to track her after the ceremony was over. After all, it wasn't like she was trying to conceal her tracks.

A part of her wished she'd woken up in Olympus, instead of this cave.

''—The herbs will help, yes,'' the man continued, oblivious to her train of thought. ''It is known for its efficient elevation of pain. I can assure you that it works wonders—and no harm will come from consuming it.''

''Why do you even care so much anyway?'' Artemis spat bitterly. She waited for the man to respond—or perhaps even to wait for his train of thoughts to occur—so she could find an excuse to blast him to oblivion.

''I—'' he faltered. He didn't seem to have an excuse ready; and all the better for meaningless words and thoughts such as '' _I wanted to help''_ or hell, '' _you're pretty''_ would ensure him a merciless death by her hand and another reason for her to scorn men.

There was no response from the man.

''Thought so.'' Following the cave walls with her fingers, she turned to leave, without a care of the world or if she'd hurt the boy's emotions. Hell, she didn't even care where she went; didn't even care if she was leaving the cave complex nor did she care that the sweltering heat meant it was midday-afternoon where the pain would flare up all over again. Artemis didn't even know where she was going—only towards where the blazing heat blasted against her as she left the cool of the cold—to where she was sure was the exit.

''Wait! Don't go yet. I—'' The man faltered. Scoffing, Artemis continued her way forwards, at a brisker pace than before, as irritation spewed over her. _Couldn't he just spit it out?_

''I understand how you feel,'' he said quietly, and she almost didn't catch his whisper. His steady voice solemn, the blaze of the Sun's heat scorching her eyes, as the sounds of troglobites trotting further into the caves echoed through the complex, she heard him say: ''I have been blind once.''

The heavy breathing that emanated from the other side of the cave was concurrent with the blind troglobites.

Artemis stopped in her tracks and turned back. Her face no longer enduring the burning heat, she welcomed the salvation of the cool cave. Something clicked in her mind as if a candle had been ignited.

She would label it as curiosity, but something else was mangled with it as well. Artemis wasn't sure what.

 _I have been blind._

Astounded, she asked: ''What did you just say?''

''I have been blind once,'' he repeated. Breathing still heavy, she listened to him recite: ''I was a hunter for the king of Chios, Oenopion. Recruited for my skills, which I built in my time with the Pleiades, and my mother Euryale, the Queen of Amazons, I was a skilled hunter, the only one that was a Poseidon as well.''

He took a loud breath; as if the next part was physically painful for him to say. ''One day, after a feast, I was accused of a crime, and the vengeful king Oenopion had me blinded.''

''You got better,'' she stated. Unless he had enhanced senses, there was no way the boy would've known that she was in the cave. She was a huntress; and although she didn't necessarily cover her tracks well, she definitely wouldn't let herself be tracked by a blind man.

''Yes, I have,'' he agreed. ''I sought help from Hephaestus in Lemnos. He was kind enough to take me in, as I recounted my tale to the god. Pitying me, he gave me a second chance. Forged me a new pair of eyes, and just like that, I could see again.''

She tried to ignore the curious sting she felt at his words. _Just like that._ How easy was it for him to see again? Venom might've been laced into her thought, but a new understanding had risen. He'd gained his sight back after being blinded. And if he could reforge his sight — why couldn't she?

''Why do you want to help me?'' She asked quietly, but her low, harsh tone came off as accusing.

He paused. Quietly, almost breathlessly, he said: ''Because I do not want to see another suffer alone in the dark.''

She didn't respond. Neither did she contemplate his words. Her mind was a blank murky swirl, thoughts surfacing and fading into the black light. The man must've noticed her vexation because she felt the warmth of his finger on her hand.

''My name is Orion. And yours?''

She smirked, the explicit irony of the situation almost making her smile. ''Artemis, boy. Goddess of the Hunt.''


	3. Sly Hunt

''You—you're the goddess Artemis—'' Suddenly, she heard a shuffle and a shift, and she heard the man clear his throat. It was only until after did she realize he was bowing. ''Forgive me, Lady Artemis,'' he spoke hastily. ''I—I never realized. I didn't know.''

Irritation twinged on her skin—and then she felt surprised. Wasn't she supposed to enjoy this? A man displaying proper reverence?

She pushed the unease to the back of her mind, and addressed the man himself. ''Rise, Orion,'' and on another note, she added: ''Though you have… touched myself, I shall let it pass,'' she said, albeit reluctantly. ''Even if you tried to cure me with herbs.''

''Thank you, Lady Artemis,'' she heard Orion say gratefully. A smile played on his words as he spoke, a sound funnily melodic. ''However, the herbs are indeed helpful.''

Artemis sighed exasperatedly, but nonetheless, let it slide. Her mind bounced back to his words earlier; _about curing his blindness._ ''You were talking about… Lemnos?''

Orion's surprise was evident. ''Lemnos? Oh, yes… Hephaestus' forge. He had cast me a new pair of eyes, there.'' A sudden swing of unease took his voice, rapid like a gust of wind. ''Would—would you like me to take you there?''

Excitement that she hadn't felt since her blindness surfaced. ''You would?'' Artemis asked the lone Hunter, like a child, momentarily forgetting about her status and sheer power.

A quiet moment passed. Artemis had to strain her ears to hear the murmur under Orion's breath. ''… no… No, I cannot…''

'' _What?''_ Fury overtook her voice, and hearing Orion take an unsteady step back fuelled the flames even more. She was about to blast the male, but managed to refrain—by the thought that she did not know how much power she regained, that she wouldn't be able to blast him accurately, for the blindness affected her balance as well; and making a ruckus in the cave would attract hunters— _predators_ —and not necessarily ones as kind as Orion either.

Reluctantly she extinguished the silver flames, just as Orion yelled out: '' _Wait!''_ As he caught his breath, Artemis heard him say: ''I cannot bring you to Lemmos—because Hephaestus' forges are closed in the Winter. I will bring you there when I can, Lady Artemis—but we must wait until Spring to ask his favor.''

Artemis had to admit that Orion had a point. There was no use in leaving for a three-day trip to Lemnos only to be greeted with closed doors.

She huffed at the thought of having to wait three months to regain her vision. Three months was nothing for the gods, for they lived in the constant present—but by the mere thought of it three months felt to extend into eternity.

 _Fine_. She didn't have any better options.

Suddenly, Orion spoke again—she didn't notice it before, but his voice sounded deep and pleasant—like a sea's serenade. ''Before you came, I found tracks made by a flock of birds,'' he said softly. He took an audible step towards the goddess, and she stiffened; until he spoke.

Mischievously, a grin in his voice, the scent of the sea unmistakably fragrant, his fingers digging into cracked leather; ''May I invite Milady to a hunt?''

* * *

He was risk-taking, Artemis'll give him that.

Not many invited— _or challenged,_ for the matter—the Hunt goddess to a hunt. Nevertheless, she accepted the invitation—and found herself running through the Crete plains, hunting for the wild birds as she followed Orion's lead.

She had to admit, Orion was a good hunter. He threw small stones to strike the birds above—a slight downgrade from a bow, and a bit distasteful from the goddess' perspective—but he managed to hit his target every time, which aroused a cry from the pained birds that she pinpointed and finished off with a shoot from her bow.

She wasn't an idiot though. She knew Orion chose this place for the sole reasoning that the birds were loud, slow, clumsy and easy to hit that even a blind man could easily strike them down. It was only a wonder that its species were not extinct given the number of predators that would've hunted it by now.

By all means, she should've taken it as an insult. He was insulting her ability to hunt with such pathetic prey.

But she found herself appreciating Orion's thoughtfulness; for he was giving her time to build her confidence; and if she were alone, she wouldn't've found the strength to return to Hunt.

She shot a few birds herself; those squawking loudly needed only a stone thrown—a cry sounded—and an arrow shot—and the bird was as good as dead. Those quieter needed a few more stones—some more strained hearing—and a few arrows whizzing by till one met its mark.

''Two… five... ten… thirteen!'' counted Orion as Artemis sheathed her bow. He sounded like he was beaming. ''That's more than yesterday's haul!''

She smirked grimly, amidst the swirling black. ''Glad I could be of assistance.''

''You know,'' Orion said quietly, once they packed the birds, and sweat poured from her neck, and the hunt was over. ''I could've never done that without you. I'm truly terrible at the bow.''

Artemis let herself a small, rueful smile. ''I suppose I'll have to teach you, then.'' she said sardonically, but the words were heartfelt.

She did appreciate his help.


	4. Afternoon's Agora

She felt uncomfortable in the Marketplace.

Granted, there were a surplus of mortals and a gigantic crowd—and it was that precisely that made her uncomfortable. There were sounds—too many sounds, distorted voices, and vocal cues for her to discern—and she was only saved by Orion's guiding hand.

''I don't like it here,'' she muttered to her guide. ''Let's finish this quick.''

She received no verbal response from Orion, but his grip tightened on hers—like a knowing squeeze—as they waded through the crowd.

After a while, Orion abruptly stopped. ''This is the Auction Centre,'' he said lowly. He guided her hand to a jutting metal handhold. Artemis grasped it, and ran her fingers on the swollen wood it was embedded in. A stage, she realized.

''I'll be auctioning our haul up there,'' he said, gesticulating to the stage. ''Just wait here. If you need anything, just let me know.''

She nodded and grasped the metal handhold. It was old, and she could feel the chalky rust under her hand. Orion climbed up to the stage beside her; as she felt his steps vibrate.

''All buyers, look no further!'' His sturdy voice reverberated through the Marketplace. ''Fresh meat for sale! 'Tis hunted merely this Afternoon, selling at affordable prices! Only thirteen birds left!''

Artemis focused on Orion's voice; grasping at the handlebar, as the commotion swept through the stage. She heard indistinct chattering; loud negotiations; the solemn tinkering of money—and she had to focus on one source—Orion's voice— to keep the noise at bay from overwhelming her. It was situations like this when she wished she could disable her godly hearing.

She held on the bar like it was a lifeline, and she didn't even notice the steps approaching her until it was too late.

''Hey, look!'' Artemis heard a man jeer. ''Seems like the Hunter's finally brought us something to _buy_ this time!''

She could hear three, four voices laugh. Overhead, she heard Orion's negotiations abruptly stop. Artemis could imagine him looking at her in concern; ignoring the buyers that tossed him their money; wondering if she could take care of herself _in her state._ That thought made her stiffen.

Tightening her fists, she glared at the foursome. Blurry black lights danced in her eyes, like a leaden taunt. ''Last warning,'' she snarled. ''Leave now, or I will be forced to do something that will make you regret your words for what little is left of your life.''

The group paused for a moment, before they burst into peals of laughter.

She gripped the metal handlebar with a force that threatened to rip. One of the loudest laughers spoke, his disgustingly hot breath wafting against her nose. ''Hah! What are you gonna do to us, huh? Hell, y'can't even _look_ straight—''

Growling, she ripped the metal bar cleanly off the podium. Gasps emitted through the crowd, as their attention turned from Orion to her. She could almost hear the terror in their voices, see the fear in their eyes. Smiling darkly, the cold metal in her hand, she sauntered towards the once-jeering voices, now shaken with fear.

''W—wait!'' one said through a stutter. ''—that's not—''

It was his last words before the metal slammed against his head. The shock of it, a resonant gong, rippled through herself and the crowd like an acoustic wave. The man fell to the ground, unconscious or dead— she didn't know— nor cared.

 _What would she give to see their terrified faces._ But unconsciously, she felt the crowd's eyes on her—and once the gasps sounded, they did not stop; tunnelling through the scared crowd like lightning gossip.

Dizziness washed her mind. Artemis stumbled, losing her balance, as the sound of the shrieks and cries rattled her eardrums. Handlebar swaying in her hand, she grasped the air futility for a hold; a balance; and caught a warm hand.

Orion's.

But before she could do anything else, a high-pitched scream sounded, momentarily disorienting her bearings as the yell stabbed at her mind: '' _Help! She—she just killed my friend!''_

The uproar of the crowd mirrored the roar of blood in her ears. Silver flames burst in her palms—and as the crowd reeled back in shock, she snarled at the mortals, as if daring them to attack.

''Run,'' was the last word she rasped before the Marketplace descended into chaos.

* * *

Artemis burst away in a blast of silver light.

She needed to get away. The sounds in the Marketplace murdered her hearing; like a wailing siren was put next to her ears. Her palm still warm from Orion's touch; she breathed in the cool smell of Olympus.

Olympus was different from what she'd remembered. It was always a place of grandeur; filled with tapestries of their deeds, artifacts, and statues praising them, and artful portraits of the gods. But this time, as she tread into the stony chambers, fingers tracing the cold marble stone, footsteps echoing through the hollow halls, it felt like a cold, dark heart, impossibly large and yet sparsely populated. She like a lonely king in her grand castle, an infinity of spiraling halls and mountains of chambers; never to fill a family.

She never noticed that Olympus was this lonely.

''Artemis,'' she heard a voice behind her say. She turned—and felt undescribable pain flare in her eyes. She winced—and she felt his hand touch her, which worsened the pain a tenfold.

''Apollo,'' she gasped. ''Stop.''

He abruptly let go of his hand, and gave her distance. Immediately, the pain relieved until it was manageable. Letting out a heavy breath, she leaned on a nearby column for support.

''Are you okay?'' Artemis heard him ask tentatively. She almost scoffed at the redundancy of the question. She wasn't—and she thought he would know best.

'' _Are you okay?''_ Artemis repeated the question numbly. She almost laughed amidst the pain _,_ but it was but a groan. ''No,'' she whispered, pain ablaze in her eyes. Even afar, his light still hurt her. Grasping the cold marble column for solace, she hoped and wished he wasn't here—despite yearning for his presence mere hours ago.

''Hey,'' Apollo said, snapping his fingers. ''Artemis. Focus on me.''

''I can't see you, Apollo,'' she said vaguely at his words. Artemis thought he'd have noticed by now—after all, it wasn't as if she was hiding it.

He seemed taken aback. ''What?''

She stiffened. Did he really need her to say it?

''… you're blind?'' he said in realization. A turmoil of emotions tumbled through her mind—she knew it for a fact, and yet hearing someone— _hearing_ _Apollo_ say it made her breath hitch and her heart skip a terrified beat.

Artemis nodded timidly, not trusting herself to speak.

''You don't look blind,'' said Apollo, his voice a bare whisper. Filled with unease; his voice a tremble; he didn't know how to comfort her. ''I—I mean you don't seem to different visibly…''

Unwittingly, she snapped at him. ''Is that supposed to be a compliment?''

''I—well, I suppose so?'' Apollo shrugged. She imagined his face; one of carelessness, confusion, and indifference.

''My _retina_ is damaged. Not my pupil. Or anywhere else.'' Artemis exhaled in vexation. ''God of Medicine. I thought you knew better.''

And with that, she burst away in a swirl of silver as the orange-red dusk shed its waning light.


	5. No Place Like Home

Artemis entered without a knock.

She needed to get away from Olympus. Away from Apollo, Hermes, and the waiting stares from the Olympians she could not see.

The first destination that popped in her mind was Delos, and so Delos she went.

Leto was busy at the kitchen, she knew. Clangs of pots and metal bowls as well as the stream of faucet water could be heard from the leftmost side of the home. Artemis took a tentative step forward, creaking the wooden floorboard.

The sounds abruptly stopped. Rushed, hurried creaks from the floor neared her, and she forced herself to relax.

''Artemis,'' Leto breathed. ''You came to visit.''

Artemis gave a small nod in response, and grasped for a table that was not there.

Hurriedly, Leto guided her hand to the table. Running her fingers across the length of the wood, she felt for a chair, and sat. Artemis heard her mother's quick steps around the table and the pull of a chair.

''Now.'' Leto's voice was commanding, as if she was a mischievous child again and she was the mother condemning her. But she could hear the underlying softness in her voice. ''What have you come to me for? I pray it isn't just a mere visit, is it?''

Artemis cast a wistful look away from Leto. Truth to be told, she didn't come just to get away from Olympus. She came for guidance. Artemis didn't want to rely on Orion, and although she could hunt, somewhat, despite her blindness, she wanted her Mother's guidance. She wanted someone familiar that wouldn't judge her, that wouldn't treat her as someone different, like Apollo did.

The words tumbled out of her mouth. ''I… fear, mother. It is childish, but I fear. I cannot see. Every step is a challenge. As if the solid ground itself is unsteady, although I know better. I don't know what lies ahead of me… and it is the jolt, the sudden presence of which I knew of nothing before that I fear with all my heart. Is it because I don't know, or is it because I am afraid of the road which lies ahead of me?''

''There is no shame in fearing, Artemis,'' Leto said firmly, but her tone was comforting. Artemis found herself basking in the childhood memories, as she reminisced about Leto's motherly love. ''I cannot say that it would be easy; for I'd be lying. Nor would I say it would become better; for it is something I cannot promise. But you are a huntress like me, are you not? You will learn to adapt. You will learn to strive & endure. You will learn to _live_ again; and although it is something I cannot promise— it is something I hope.''

Artemis breathed in a sigh. ''I can hunt, Mother, but… it isn't the same.'' A chuckle came from her, as she thought of her hunt of the birds with Orion earlier. Past her would be disgusted at the lows she'd hunted at. ''—Is it selfish of me to want to keep my past life?''

''Artemis.'' Leto stated firmly. She grasped her hand; and cradled it in hers. ''In _no way_ is it selfish. You wish for the past—for the past is something you are familiar with. Now, when dealing with something unfamiliar, you want to fall back on something you know. Remember your first hunt?''

Yes, she remembered. She was out hunting with Apollo and her Mother, as they hunted for the Stymphalian birds. She didn't even manage to shoot a single bird; she even managed to lose her brother and Mother twice; and yet, it was a memory she cherished and learnt from.

 _Remember the stars,_ her mother had said. _The_ _Ursa Major points North. Follow it, and navigate from there; for there's no reliable star for the East, West or the South. So, my love, remember the stars._

It was a lesson she learnt, and a lesson she used whenever she was lost; despite the failure of her first hunt. Artemis nodded slightly. ''I understand, Mother.''

Leto squeezed her hand—once, twice, and thumbed away the tears that appeared from Artemis' eyes. ''Do what you love,'' Leto exhaled. ''Do what makes you feel like yourself. And I forbid you to mope—'' Leto said, as her eyes flared with ardour. ''—feeling bad for yourself may feel like a cure, but you will hate the world for it. And _never say_ it is selfish to yearn your past—live in the present, and remember to yearn the future as much you do the past.''

Artemis let Leto lead her outside; and when she felt the fresh air; the soft grass; the scent of the spring; _the palace of her memories_ ; she almost managed to smile again.

''Go hunt, Artemis,'' she heard Leto say as Artemis prepared to leave. ''Don't let anything hold you back—whether it be fear or reputation or else—for the night is yours.''

* * *

Artemis stumbled into the city of Crete.

It was a maze of houses and buildings; that she remembered from her tour of the city with Apollo, but being within the maze was severely different from merely floating above, onlooking the city beneath.

She knew that the hunter had to be here. He was selling the birds in the Marketplace; and if if the birds weren't sold by dusk then he'd have to stash it nearby—which would be in his home.

Finding Orion was as hard as finding a needle in a haystack; and she was groping for the needle blindly at that.

 _Orion,_ she thought. A voice in her head berated her: _why did she try to sought out the male hunter? She could've stayed in Olympus and let them heal her sight. Hell, she could've just stayed in Delos; for her home, her comfort and her mother as she retrained herself—why Orion, of all people?_

But nothing irritated her more than the image of Apollo; who burnt her eyes out, left her in that cave, never tried to sought her out; pleading apologies and prayers while '' _trying''_ to heal her. How much she wanted to spite him.

 _Hah_ , she thought darkly. _Even a mortal male plays better than you, god._

Suddenly, acute pain assaulted her; burning feverishly, blindingly; mockingly in her eyes. It was as if an inferno was lit from within and was ravaging all that it touched; but it was an inferno ablaze with cold instead of heat; with sorrow instead of pain; with the mocking touch of Death instead of the agony of life.

She cried a sound of pain; and tore at her eyes, waiting and wishing for the cold stabs; the unsurmountable pain; the fleeting relief to stop.

After what felt like an eternity—the throbbing washed away like a cool, freeing douse; the pain dulled into nothing but silence; her tears cleared like a receding tide; as she wiped away the residue left in her eyes.

And like that, her sight was black no more—but fragmented with swathes of bright, silver light from the Moon. She rubbed it some more; as if she were cleaning windows from its grime; and the fragments packed together, darkness receding once and for all, until all that was left was sight.

She stood, eyes widened as if she couldn't believe what she saw; and surveyed the landscape, bathed in a silver Moon, as she occasionally rubbed her eyes as she hoped she wasn't dreaming.

''It's real,'' she exhaled quietly, almost childlike; as if what she saw was thought impossible until now. ''I can see again.''

''Like Prometheus,'' said a voice from behind her. She turned around, and saw a man of twenty—a large, sturdy build, a hair of messy jet-black, and the almost quiet, indistinct whirr of mechanical, sea-blue eyes.

She recognised that voice. Grimly, she said—the childlike awe no longer residing in her voice— ''I'd prefer you not use that analogy, Orion.''

He bowed his head. ''My apologies.''

But once the analogy entered her head, she couldn't get rid of it. Prometheus was tortured by day by Zeus' Eagle; which ripped open his livers and feasted on it until night fell; which was when the Eagle relented and Prometheus' liver regenerated—and when day came the whole process rewound itself again.

She was Prometheus, her livers regenerating in her domain during the Night, as she let out a sigh of relief and enjoyed the fleeting release from the cruel grasp of the Eagle; but to lose her sight again when Sun dawned, as the Eagle came back for another feast of its life—as the never-ending cycle repeated itself, again and again for eternity.

Pushing away the troubling thought, she focused on Orion—who perhaps had witnessed her dilemma, for he was staring guiltily at the rays of the Moon.

She sighed softly, almost smiling ironically. _If you are so pained by my_ _dilemma, then_ _you should've thought about the implications of your analogy, Orion._

But then, her tirade of thoughts broke when Orion extended his hand—almost sheepishly, she saw. ''Milady,'' he said softly. ''Would I have the honour to hunt with the Goddess of the Moon?''

A light smile surfaced, as she drew the silver bow sheathed on her back. ''Put away that hand, Orion, and take out your club—we'll hunt for 'tis merry night.''

Her troubles could wait until dawn.

* * *

 **A/N:** I'd like to thank **Notyou21** and **Guest** for the reviews! Glad you're enjoying the story so far, and for those who are wondering, I fully intend to finish this fic.

Reviews speed up the postage :D


	6. Lost Time

_**It had been exactly a month since she began her Hunt with Orion.**_

 _ **Artemis knew, because she remembered the date when Apollo was blessed by Helios with his powers. And it was that day when she met Orion, and that day when she first hunted blind.**_

* * *

''Steady, Orion.'' Artemis' voice hollered through the clearing. ''The bow cannot be pulled by force; It would only break. However, without any strength, the bow cannot be pulled. The bow is only a tool, Orion. You must master it before trying to do anything with it.''

''I know Artemis, I know!'' Orion threw the bow onto the ground, much to the dismay of Artemis. He then started pacing around in circles, occasionally smoothing out his hair as he did so.

Artemis sighed. She knew that Orion was an impatient man, but he was still her friend and hunting partner.

''Orion, If you do not try, you will never know.''

She put a firm hand on his shoulder. He didn't try to resist, though. His shoulders only slumped, a resigned expression now blossoming his face — perhaps because he knew that she was correct.

If Artemis noticed, then she made no acknowledgment of it — only picking up the discarded bow that lay on the dirt ground, carefully brushing the grime off as she handed it back to him.

She nodded at him in the slightest, the bow on her extended hand. ''Here, Orion. Do not give up so quickly, for that you have potential.'' It was high praise, especially when your hunting companion was a goddess.

Orion glanced at the bow in her hand, red rising up his normally calm cheeks. He hung his head in shame and took the bow from her outstretched palm. ''I'm sorry. That was rash.''

Despite herself, Artemis found herself breaking into a small smile. ''Yes, Orion. Yes, it was. Do not forget that it was my bow that you had thrown around. I could've turned you into a hind for that.''

Finally, Orion lifted his head, breaking into a smirk. ''Oh? Is that so? I suppose that hunting — _sorry_ , being _hunted_ for my entire life by an enraged maiden goddess just because he had her bow dirtied sounds great. Are we starting now?''

This time, it was Artemis whom reddened. ''Shut up, you fool. As for that, I'll let your hunting dog Sirius hunt you like a rabbit— sorry, _as_ a rabbit. What would you prefer?''

He only winked; a wink the Maiden goddess couldn't see.

* * *

 _Nighttime._

Artemis ran across the boundless plains, her bow drawn and a confident smile on her face. Behind her ran Orion, his head shaking in mild exasperation, but a grin bore his face.

'' _Selene guards the Moon tonight,'' he remembered Artemis say, as she breathed a smile. ''This night is mine.''_

He followed the running goddess into the thick dense forests of Crete. She expertly dodged the overhanging branches, brushed her fingers against the rustling leaves, and leaped over the underlying roots hidden by the dirt. Orion struggled to keep up; but didn't complain, letting the goddess have all the freeness she deserved.

It was night, and Artemis' domain reigned once again.

''I forgot how this felt like,'' exhaled Artemis, finally slowing to a stop. In the clearing, the full moon illuminated her pale features, and the only noise Orion heard was the crickets in the night and the sound of his heavy breathing. Overhead, the silver moon glowed brighter still.

Artemis whipped her head around to face him. The beads of sweat on her forehead were evident to him now, but the goddess had never looked better, he thought to himself.

''Come, Orion,'' she said amidst his slow panting. ''Tis' night has barely started, and we have so much more to see.''

 _See_ , he contemplated. The Moon goddess' sight had been cut short, and every night the Moon rose, she always cherished what little time she had. During these times, Orion had found it hard to keep up with her; in the night, she was at her full strength, and, like the full moon, finally whole again.

He could understand the sentiment, even share it, perhaps. Orion remembered the time when he was blind, groping through the city as he became the laughing-stock of Chios, because of his crime and his blindness.

Orion winced at the memory. He tried not to think about that.

After regaining his sight with the help of Hephaestus, he had stared at the world in wonder, with an awe no other could understand; an awe no-one couldn't appreciate unless they had lost their sight, felt the despair and the resignation that came with it—and, just when they'd accepted their fate, they were given it back.

He knew that this was not the case with most people, and he was a rare exception. But still. He couldn't help but enjoy the lights, the colors, and the vista that came with it.

As the goddess' time was short and precious as it was rare, Orion had tried not to get in her way and let her enjoy herself while she was at her fullest; though for some reason, she always insisted on joining her along, even if all he did was drag her down.

Orion bit back a smile and sighed. Women. He wouldn't ever understand them...

* * *

''Follow me!'' Artemis yelled over the noises of the night, weaving in between and leaping onto the sturdy branches of the thick trees as if she was orchestrating a dance. Orion forced down the mumble of complaint and obliged, using his waning strength to push the lithe evergreen down, while barging clumsily through the thickly-weaved trees. He had nowhere near the grace Artemis used so fluently, but he had the strength to make up for it.

And… she was already nowhere to be seen.

Orion scanned the humid forest. Not a shadow. He listened intently, hoping to pick out a noise. Not a sound. Finally, almost as a last resort, he glanced up at the full moon above him, which glowed a shade darker in response, as if she was teasing him…

 _Wait._

Orion returned his gaze to the forest, but this time, he focused on the dirt. Sure enough, the rainfall that pounded on earlier had washed the grounds wet… and thus a trail of footprints was left behind in the goddess' wake.

Orion scoffed in exasperation at himself and shook his head. _How could he be so stupid?_ Following tracks was the **first** lesson any hunter would've learned, and he hunted beside the Moon goddess herself. No wonder even the Moon laughed at him.

How did he miss it? Such a simple thing.

 _And yet you were distracted. Occupied. By…_

He didn't daresay.

Suddenly, a loud bark bought him out of his thoughts. Orion turned his head from the footprints to see Sirius, his hunting dog, yipping gleefully at his presence.

Orion whistled to his dog and knelt down, arms outstretched, which prompted Sirius to bound towards him and slobber all over his face.

Orion winced slightly at the slobber, but nonetheless ruffled Srirus's fur and smiled. ''Hey. Good dog. _Wait—stop stop stop, that tickles_ —'' he gasped out between licks.

Once Sirius had finally settled down, Orion's gaze landed on the silhouette that had brought his dog here. ''Artemis,'' he greeted. ''Long time no see. I see you've been using him to track down my scent.''

Artemis' silver eyes shone in the face of moonlight. ''Well. It is not the only way to track down a man's foul stench.'' A hint of a smile played on her lips.

Orion laughed out loud, rubbing a nuzzling Sirius's head. ''I'll be forever known as _the_ _only_ _hunter_ that got lost in the woods.''

Artemis' eyes twinkled in amusement. ''It won't be the only thing you'll be remembered by, I promise,'' she said in jest, but her words were genuine.

She extended a hand. ''Come, Orion. We do not want to miss the dawn, do we?''

Orion smiled throughout the entire journey west.


	7. Forgone Crimes

**Warning** : Mentions of rape.

* * *

''Apollo,'' Artemis stated as she entered through Olympus' gates. She felt his presence; an aura of warmth and heat warping the air around him—and of course, the insistent, nagging pain that flared in her sightless eyes.

Her hunt with Orion had yielded several birds, critters, and one large stag. She let Orion take the meat to the Marketplace to sell, while she returned to Olympus to join one of Zeus' meetings. And apparently, Apollo couldn't give her a break.

She knew that he was supposed to be riding the Sun Chariot; but he had stopped, ever since she was blinded. Hermes had told her.

She didn't know what to feel about that.

''Artemis,'' he returned. She could almost envision his shaky smile, his feet nervously grinding against the ground, a shift in his awkward tone. All of which she acted like never existed.

''It's nice to see you back.''

''Same goes to you.'' She replied coldly. She didn't think—or at least tried not to—of all he did once she became blind. By _his_ flame.

All but nothing. His constant nagging about Orion. About her vow. But she knew there was more to that.

''Heard you've been spending time near a hunter lately.''

She stiffened. ''He is my companion.'' It was one line she knew would piss him off. For that for more than millennia; ever since they were born, _he_ had been her hunting companion. _He_ had held the title of being the man-hating goddess's companion—none else. _He_ had been her hunter. _He_ was once her only male friend.

And he would be so if he hadn't abandoned her to the dark.

Apollo's aura felt to burn darkly. _Hah._ ''That still does not explain your close proximity to that… man,'' he spat out The word like it was a curse.

''And what part of me owes an explanation to you?'' She asked almost innocuously, but the fiery rage ran rampant in its undertone. ''Especially after… _you…_ _ **blinded**_ _me.''_

''Artemis…'' he tried, but she was having none of it. She knew she was being petty—but he had it coming, mentioning Orion like that in the first place at all.

''And that doesn't even matter,'' she scoffed. Before even giving him an opportunity to retort, she said: ''I don't even _care_ about that part. I don't care that your sun made me lose my sight. The part _I_ care is where you've done absolutely _nothing_ to help.''

Of course, he had. But she wouldn't know, would she?

''You did nothing Apollo. You didn't even try.''

He began to mumble. ''I tried, Artemis… I really have…''

''Damn you,'' she muttered. And without another further word she left Apollo at the gates of Olympus, ignoring the warm, upset aura flickering from him, stalking off to somewhere where she didn't care.

* * *

She and Orion sat contently, facing Crete's setting sun. It was dusk; and they were on the top of it all, as they watched over the commotion of the city down below. It had been weeks since her argument with Apollo, and she recalled his words as she felt the deteriorating warmth of Helios' dusk.

'' _That still does not explain your close proximity to that… man,'' Apollo had said, as he ranted about Orion._

 _She had scoffed it off, redirected the subject to him, as discomfort surged through her body that she pushed down._

Unease settled in her mind, and she forced the subject to somewhere else. It had been days since they conquered Minos' Labyrinth, and deconstruction of the site had already conducted, lead by none other than Daedalus, the Maze's father.

As she waited for the dusk to subside, already Artemis felt strength returning to her, as her eyes began to heal, and most importantly, the sensation of Apollo's domain shrinking as hers came into power.

She was used to this daily cycle, and this was the part she looked most forward to.

''The crime you committed…'' she said idly, as she thought of Crete and their hunts and the _memories_. ''What was it?''

Orion felt to stiffen. She didn't need her eyes to know that this was a sore topic for him. ''I—I don't think that you would want to know, milady.'' He said hoarsely, his voice once so melodic now a stone scraping against wall.

Curiosity flashed into alarm. Orion knew full well that she wouldn't judge him for his past. There was simply no reason _not_ to tell her. And yet…

''What did you do?'' Artemis said roughly, accusation clear in her tone. Grasping a fistful of grass and muddy dirt in her hand, she gripped the dirt tightly, mirroring her frustration into the ground.

When he didn't respond, she snapped in anger. ''Say it, Orion.''

Her voice was cold; as cold as the dark Winter nights.

''I… was accused… of rape…'' Orion said slowly. As if he was afraid of her. Artemis could almost imagine his wide eyes, thought the note of fear in his voice. Her own eyes were wide; blinking slowly at Orion in dismay.

''Gods, Orion,'' Artemis said bitterly. ''I hope it was only an accusation.'' _Please don't tell me you went through with it. By the gods, please don't tell me you went with it._

''I didn't do it,'' Orion said quietly, reading her mind. ''In case you were wondering. He—Oenopion, the King, stopped me just as I was about to make a drunken mistake. And punished well-deservingly for that.'' he chuckled sadly. ''I suppose you hate me now. It'd be well founded.''

''No,'' she found herself saying quietly, as much as her mind screamed the other way. ''No, I don't.''

Her mind cursed her; hollered out questions that questioned her sanity: _what is wrong with you?! Why don't you hate him?! He tried to rape a maiden—the princess of Chios, for gods' sake!_

Orion was quiet, noticing her turmoil. And he was right; she was conflicted. He was her friend, but the Hunt was her duty. Taking care of maidens was her duty. And protecting those that had assaulted the innocent wasn't.

If it was any other male—say, Hippolytus, she would've ended them in an instant. By the gods, she did that to Callisto—poor, kind Callisto, who did no wrong but loved her so—and was wronged by Zeus' filthy hand, and punished by her own demented, unjust self.

 _Gods._ So why was Orion different?

 _Why was he different?_

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you to **Silver566** for your review!


	8. New Moon

She didn't see Orion.

She hadn't seen him in weeks. And for all the better, perhaps, for she needed time to contemplate, and think about the words he'd said.

 _Males. They're all like this, aren't they?_

Revulsion gripped her bones. Artemis gripped her bow tighter at the thought of the helpless princess, grabbed by Orion's drunken, foul hands, and only stopped by the Maiden's father, Onenopion, who had him blinded and exiled before he had a chance to conduct the disgusting deed.

It was well deserved, and by all means, she should've hated Orion for what he tried to do.

But she didn't. Even Orion had believed she would; when he told her that her hate would be justified. And she said _no._ She said _no_ , she didn't hate him. She said _no,_ _no_ she didn't mind that he tried to rape a maiden; a maiden like herself. She said _no_.

And that was what astonished her the most; for why would she _not_ hate him? He tried to violate a maiden. One under _her_ sphere of protection. And she was their protector—so why wasn't she taking revenge? Why didn't she hate Orion, the hate her duty called for?

And frankly, she feared the answer. For was it worth reevaluating her entire existence for?

* * *

Orion despised himself for what he did.

He'd joined a fighting competition in Chios three years ago, where the King had promised his daughter as a prize. And so he went, honed his skills for six consecutive months, and on the day at the Coliseum beat his enemies an inch away from death; all for a glance from his daughter's eye.

He had won the competition, and the crowd cheered him and the princess sent him a kiss with her hand. He felt pride surge through him, the pride he'd never else felt for his entire life.

The King—Oenopion congratulated him, and handed his daughter to his eager self. As he accepted the princess' hand, Oenopion pushed Orion back and as he crashed into the balcony, he let out a jolly, belly laugh.

The spectator's cheers turned into horror; and then, into laughs. Their foul laughs reverberated through his dumbfounded mind, and he, humiliated, ran off to Atalanta's bar, where he drunk to forget his sorrows.

They said that if you got drunk enough, you could see the Greek gods. He drank and drank; and laughed as jovially as the King did, as he waited to see the visions of the Greek gods.

He never saw them.

He found himself, climbing up to the castle, swearing drunken revenge as he spat on the frightened crowd. And it was in that moment when he crawled through the window and the princess let out a scream—

He never forgave himself.

So was it a surprise when he found himself returning to the bar, drinking to his heart's content, trying to forget Artemis' words as he laughed and cried at the foul night?

* * *

Orion approached her during dusk.

She sat coldly over the city night, in their tainted spot. ''Go away,'' she spat, as his light footsteps approached her.

''I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, Lady Artemis,'' Orion said, as his footsteps stopped. She noted the use of _Lady_ in his voice. In any other situation, it would be unusual for him to address her with her full title, but for this one, she only scoffed.

She let him stand behind her, and savored the awkwardness in the silence. Despite what her emotions told her, she had a duty to the maidens. Artemis couldn't abandon her titles and her reputation for a _male mortal_ that had broken the rules, however much he might've changed since then.

Orion didn't talk, as if he was waiting for her response. Finally, it was her that broke the silence. ''No, you were right. You shouldn't have told me at all,'' she said coldly. ''For I do not even see a _man_ in front of me now.''

Cold harsh words. But it was necessary—for she would curse herself forever if she protected a man at a maiden's expense.

Orion sounded hurt. ''Lady Artemis… I understand if you despise me for what I've done. I was irrational, and a drunken fool. But...'' and at this, his voice lowered significantly. ''... I am not the man I was three years ago.''

Then, she laughed heartily, almost as she did when Aphrodite tried to curse her. ''What did you _expect_ , Orion?'' she smiled through tears. ''Befriending a _Maiden_ goddess to atone his attempted-rape to a _maiden_ doesn't bode well for me, Orion.''

''I-I didn't know you were a Maiden goddess until after I found you, Lady Artemis!'' Orion said, his voice laced with chagrin. ''How could I have known—'' he abruptly stopped, realizing the risk of his death at the hands of an enraged goddess.

Quietly, Artemis contemplated his words. As much as she loathed to admit it, they were true.

Sighing in regret, Orion sat a few meters away from her. But Artemis didn't stiffen. ''I'm sorry, Lady Artemis. I—I really am. I know you won't believe me, but the princess—she, uh, I found out later that she wasn't really a maiden.'' He bit his lip. ''She likes to date around, and had a few lovers before the competition.''

 _A competition,_ she thought. ''So you've won, then?'' she asked, keeping the emotion from her tone. ''Oenopion promised you his daughter's hand in marriage. He refused. And so you, drunk, climbed up his castle, and entered his daughter's chamber in a fit of rage.''

''Yes,'' he said, his voice breathless. He finished it for her. ''And I regret it every day.''

A quiet silence passed the duo.

Then, a few moments later, Artemis' lips pulled up into a sad smile, her voice barely audible as she let out a slow sigh. ''I suppose everyone has their secrets, Orion…''

''Shall we try this again?'' asked Orion, as he stuck out a hand. ''This time, no more secrets.''

Artemis' lips quirked upwards in the slightest. ''I'd like that, I think.''

''Hello,'' the Male Hunter greeted to the Goddess of the Moon. ''My dearest Milady, my name's Orion. And yours?''

She felt the ghost of a small smile creep on her face. ''Hello, Orion the Hunter. My name is Artemis, goddess of the Hunt and Moon.'' Then, she glared at the Hunter in annoyance, dropping the unwitting smile. ''And you can drop the _Milady_ just about now _.''_


	9. A Maiden's Hunt

"Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. then your love would also change."

― **William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet**

* * *

She didn't fully trust him, not at first.

But as the days dragged on as the hunts did—and Orion kept his distance—she came from compulsory dislike, to grudging acceptance, into enjoying his company, and until it finally felt like it was before— when they hunted for the thrill and relied on each other's laughs to bring in the haul she left for him to sell, as she waited eagerly for the next days to come.

Artemis eventually let him join on her hunts again, and it felt like just before—only without the burden of hiding their pasts—and for some reason, it felt freeing—perhaps even better than before, if it could.

It was an incredulous statement to make. But in her heart, she knew that it was true.

* * *

The hunt was furious at dusk.

She sprinted after the footsteps of Orion and the pants from Sirius, with her bow ready at hand and her quiver pounding against her back. Sweat glistened on her forehead, but she paid the fatigue no heed as they ran after their prey.

It certainly felt like before, without a care in the world except for their hunt.

''Duck!'' Orion yelled. She dodged the branch above her, as its shadow passed looming over her blurry sight.

It was nearly night, she thought.

With the reassuring thought settled in her mind, she sprinted ahead with full speed, chasing; and then surpassing Orion.

She led the hunt, hearing the hammering footsteps of both Sirius and Orion behind her; hearing the shrill call of the wild behind her; hearing her own footsteps and pants—all of which she paid no heed. She focused on one thing, one sound and one only—and that was her prey.

It was a deer, unfortunate enough to be surrounded and yet fortunate enough to bolt—but she was determined to hunt it down nonetheless.

The clip-clops of its panicked, frequent hoofs reverberated in her mind. She focused on the source; and gave chase.

She would've led Orion lead; for Orion had the sight she had not, and although the dusk was nowhere close, she wanted to hone her skills. She trusted Orion's skills—but she shouldn't doubt hers either.

As the hind rounded a panicked corner, trying to shrug off the two hunters, undeterred in their chase, she followed her prey until an abrupt stop was heard — it was cornered. On a cliff.

Beside her, she could hear Orion catch up, as he shuffled to minimize all possible escape routes for the deer. Weapon poised, voice impossibly soft, he said through pants: ''Lady Artemis. Would you like to do the honors?''

The deer jumped. And in that same moment, an arrow was released from her bow.

It plummeted into the sea with a splash, sinking to the depths like a stone. A few moments later, another splash followed—Orion's.

She waited for time to pass, as she panted, catching her breath. She heard sloppy footsteps mumble towards her, and the sound of heavy breathing as Orion dumped the mound of sopping wet on the ground. The dead deer fell with a _thunk_.

''It's quite the haul,'' she heard Orion say, breathing heavily from his endeavor in the water. She could almost feel the wet dripping from him, which only enhanced the scent of the sea that emitted from him.

''Thanks,'' she breathed out in a croak, her cheeks red with heat and perspiration.

''It's a perfect shot, Lady Artemis,'' he continued to muse. ''A blow to the head, a direct death. No suffering.''

''Well, that's nice to know.'' Her lips quirked upwards in a slight smirk. ''The first shot's a bullseye.''

Orion laughed, the first laugh he'd laughed since the revelation of his crime. ''It is indeed, Lady Artemis.''

''I said not to call me _Lady Artemis,''_ she grunted at his faint laughter. ''I thought we were over that.''

Orion broke into a sly grin. ''Alright, well... _what should I call you, then?''_

She growled in irritation. She really should've just left him during dusk, but a warmth— small, quaint, and barely noticeable— blossomed in her heart.

* * *

They settled for the plains at night.

It had been weeks since Orion told her about his past crime, but it felt like decades ago. And it had been days since they resumed their hunt, but it felt like years. Hunting together felt familiar, intimate, and it felt like it were before—and Artemis liked that.

It was nighttime—however, the accelerated healing for her eyes hadn't kicked in yet. She dreaded the heightened pain that would happen, but she was eager for the breathtaking vision that followed it. Her eyes hurt even now, throbbing numbly at the cold night.

She heard the sound of Orion's ruffling through his bag. Quietly she sat, hoping it wasn't another secret to unfold.

''It's for you,'' she heard Orion exhale after the ruffling stopped. She felt for his hands, and she felt a soft texture on them. Artemis ran her fingers on the fabric. Aside from being, well, a strip of fabric, it didn't seem like anything special. ''I—I thought you might like it.''

Artemis glanced at Orion incredulously, through the dancing lights. Distinctly, she remembered Orion taking a _gift_ , as he'd put it, from Daedalus when they were in Minos' Maze. '' _This_ is what we conquered the Labyrinth for? A piece of fabric?''

Orion smiled. ''Don't judge a book by its cover. Try it on.''

Uneasily, Artemis held the fabric to her eyes. Orion's fingers brushed over hers, and she let him tie the knot.

Artemis opened her eyes. As usual, the murky black returned her gaze—but this time, it was different. The pain was gone.

''H—how…?'' was the only word she could utter.

''I, well—'' Orion smiled sheepishly. He was gratified that Artemis couldn't see him right now. ''White is the best color for reflecting light. I specialized it by asking Daedalus to make it for me. It's why I've been checking up on him.''

''So you've entered the Labyrinth to pick it up; stopping by Daedalus and killing the Minotaur along the way. All for _this_? _For me?_ '' she said incredulously, not quite trusting what she was hearing.

''Exactly,'' she heard Orion whisper into her ear. His hot breath warmed her ears; as it beat away the cool, emerging night that threatened to take her in its embrace.

''I—'' Artemis stopped, her throat thick with emotion. ''Orion,'' she cleared her throat, as warmth overwhelmed her eyes. ''—thank you.''

She choked with smiles, as she sniffled away her runny nose and reined in the warmth in her eyes. Pulling off the strip of fabric, releasing the reins on her tear-ducts, she let the droplets flow freely. ''Thank you,'' she whispered, an overjoyed, sincere smile on her face.

''You're welcome,'' she heard him say, as a warmth touched her cheeks and wiped away her tears. Artemis exhaled, and salvaged what little warmth she felt, the warmth that kept the cool, dark Moon away.

''Don't go,'' she found herself murmuring. ''I don't want to endure the night alone.''

In response, in one swift motion, Orion drew her into his hands. ''I won't,'' he promised, and she let his blissful warmth take her. ''I'll be here, for as long as you'll need it.''

She felt him lean in, the scent of the sea wafting in the air.

She was faster. Feeling his cheeks, his whirring eyes, and the soft corners of his lips; she kissed him on the lips.

* * *

 **A/N** : **Guthans** , thanks for the review! And yeah, the Artemis/Orion myths are always fun to take on. :D Glad you like it!


	10. Waning Quarter

She knew it was wrong.

She's a Maiden goddess. She's the protector of young children. She's the leader of the Hunt. And he was a hunter; he attempted to violate a woman; and he was a male, at that.

She knew what Olympus would say. She knew Zeus would stare at her in disbelief. She knew her friends would be shocked. She knew Apollo would usher her out and give her medication and dabble her forehead to check for fevers—as he unleashed a plague's wrath on the Hunter for ''daring to touch her''.

She didn't tell Olympus. The kiss was a secret they shared; between Orion and herself.

She knew it was wrong, and yet she did it anyway.

* * *

She remembered laughter.

Lounging on the paisley fields of Crete with something— no, someone she would've never imagined herself being with. Orion. He gave her a large grin which mirrored in his deep-sea blue eyes, and she found herself doing the same; even if it was only a hint of a smile.

She shook her head. ''Do tell wherever you have heard of Ares' and Aphrodite's story. I never knew that particular story was common knowledge to mortals as well.

Orion chuckled. ''A parchment of the _'Olympian Tabloids'_ rode the winds to the Earth,'' he said with humor. ''But no. It's a common story traded in bars. Bartenders or Marketers love the story. They think—'' and at this point, he shook his head once more, hiding a sly smile ''— that it encourages their consumers to drink some more.''

Artemis chuckled with mirth. ''Intriguing. But on Olympus, it is different matters entirely; every time Aphrodite and Ares strode into a room together, we Olympians could not stifle a laugh. Serves the duo right as well. Hephaestus is unlucky to have married to such a fraud.''

Orion only smiled contently. Off of his head, he asked: ''Are all gods like this? Cheaters, frauds, hoaxes and swines?''

Artemis's head whipped towards him in utter disbelief. At her disbelieving glance, Orion could not suppress a laugh. Usually, if someone had spoken so daringly of the gods or the Olympians; they would've been incinerated on the very spot, especially with being in the presence of an Olympian.

However, Orion was unlike most mortals.

After a few passing moments, Artemis shook her head disbelievingly and turned back to the horizon. ''As much as a betrayal I am to admit it, I cannot deny those that are the truth. Most usually are,'' she admitted. ''—perhaps even including me, to some extent. Mortals… they never fail to astonish me. The amount of growth there is in such a short span of time. Is it because I am immortal so that never allows for any growth?''

She had never been so truthful to a mortal before. But somehow, she had never felt any better, sitting on the meadows at peace with Orion, talking as if they were a normal pair, and not a virgin goddess and a lone hunter.

''No,'' he said. ''Everyone grows, and that includes you. We all learn from our mistakes; and it is because we have mistakes that make us grow, to make us strive, to make us be a better version of ourselves. We all do grow. It is just that…'' and he smiled sadly at her, and if she didn't know any better, she might've thought that it was pity. ''… because you have so much time, it is why you do not take any time to revise through your mistakes, and learn from them. Pardon me, my lady, but that is what I believe.''

Artemis waved him off with a single wave of a hand. ''It is your opinion, Orion… and I cannot say that I am happy to hear it. But…'' she returned her blank gaze to the horizon, and the setting sun mirrored in her misty, wistful eyes. ''… I suppose I can learn.''

* * *

The setting sun was enough for her to look at, enough of her so that she could gaze at it directly and only receive a mild, irritating sense of pain in return. The afternoon was the brightest, and the one which hurt her the most during the cycle of the day, often where she would retreat to the sanctuary of the caves and share a roasted rabbit with her male companion. The mornings weren't any better, but bearable; even if she got through the day blind, she could still hunt— she was one of the best, and she refused to be beaten by a mere thing such as sight… however, there were a few mild… complications.

But it was also why she favored her hunt in the night.

* * *

 **A/N:** Really apologize for the shorter chapter. But god, I just finished _Code Name Verity,_ and I'm still processing it... give me a day or so.

 **Guthans** , thanks for the consecutive review! :D And oh Apollo... man, I wish Apollo's hatred didn't run so deep. Luckily he doesn't know it yet... but Orion better watch out. :')


	11. Crescent

"Tell me the story...

About how the sun loved the moon so much...

That she died every night...

Just to let him breathe..."

― **Hanako Ishii**

* * *

 **2 ½ months later...**

 **She had loved Orion; cherished him so, as they hunted through the days and nights.**

 **The months, once passing so slowly, felt incredibly fleeting. It was true then, that time flies when they were enjoying the moments.**

 **She would miss Orion by the end of the three months when Hephaestus' forge was due to open—for she would have no excuse to explain to the Olympians why she hunted with a mortal male.**

 _ **But**_ **, she had thought,** _ **why did she need an excuse?**_ _**It didn't matter what they thought about her hunting with a man. Especially if she loved him.**_

* * *

''What is with you and the _male?''_ Apollo snarled, as he paced round Olympus. ''You hunt with him, eat with him—hell, even sleep with him!'' he growled incredulously. ''What if anyone got the wrong picture?! You'd be denounced as the prime _Maiden Goddess_ long before you'll be able to lift a finger in protest.''

''I told you—he is my companion,'' Artemis said, almost exasperated. ''He is to accompany me to Hephaestus' forge, to request a casting of a new pair of eyes. And who's to say _I cared_ about what others thought about _us_?''

'' _I care,''_ Apollo growled, as he paced in frustration. '' _You are the Goddess of Maidens. The virgin huntress. You swore an oath,''_ he almost spat the words. ''Your hate for the human male delved far further than anyone else's—and no one needed to reel you in. But now? Now you spend your time with a _man,_ caring not for your duties to the Moon or the Hunt—all but you and _him!''_ Apollo spat the last word with fury.

''You're jealous, aren't you?'' Artemis snapped at her brother. ''Of him. Of _Orion.''_

''I—'' he stopped abruptly. She snorted, and she heard his voice twist in fury. ''You want the truth?'' Apollo retorted, low danger in his voice. She kept herself quiet. ''Well, I _am, Artemis. I'm jealous of that_ _ **pathetic male hunter**_ _that you choose to spend your time with._ Ever since **you** were blinded by the Sun, you never gave me more than a passing regard. Whenever I tried to rekindle our friendship, **you** turned me down.'' He shook his head in disbelief. ''You chose _him_ over _me,_ Artemis, and that tells me that it wasn't just your eyes that were blinded in the Sun.''

Fury overtook her. ''You dare twist the blame on me? Let me remind you that it was _your_ rays that blinded _me,_ not _him._ You never tried to help. At least he was there; he helped—he understood _what I was going through._ And I can assure you that my head has felt never better since I met Orion.''

''You…'' Of all Apollo could've chosen to say—and he had a ripe picking of many, from Artemis' condemnation of him _never trying to help_ to the violation of Artemis' maidenly oath—only one resonated within his mind, like a dying man's declaration, reverberating through like a shrill loud note.

He hoped he was wrong. Disbelief ran rampant in his voice. ''… you love him, don't you?''

She didn't respond, but gripped her bow tighter, and willed to disappear in the night.

* * *

 **Two weeks later.**

Artemis felt a brilliant shine of light enveloped her, and she didn't need to look to know who it was. She took her bow out and aimed an arrow at the figure. Friendly or not, she knew she didn't trust him.

Apollo's smile wavered as he looked at the tip of the arrow producing from the bow. ''There is something… someone I would like you to take care of.''

''I don't do your dirty work for you.'' she spat. ''Or are they too lowly and unworthy for the great Apollo to kill?''

He ignored her comment and continued.

''This person is a rapist and a disgusting low-lived mortal. He was accused of rape in the isle of Crete, by trying to rape a princess who was already betrothed. He had also once befriended a sworn maiden, but only to betray her when he forced himself upon her.''

''You are lying,'' was the only answer that came out of Artemis' mouth.

Apollo shrugged as if he had better to do. ''His name is Pirithous. It's your choice if you want to kill him or not, as such problems are no part of me, or my domain. I just figured that you couldn't let that scoundrel live.''

''Wait...''

His form started to shimmer and began to dissipate.

''He is only over at the shore where the sun sets. I had a scorpion chase him there, but he had jumped into the refuge of the Sea. Go now, and end his unworthy life. Hesitate, and he shall live 'till old age claims him.''

And with that, he vanished in a burst of brilliant yellow light.

* * *

''What the hell am I supposed to do?'' she growled in frustration, kicking the ground in front of her. Mimicking his voice, she snarled: '' _Over there, Artemis._ Does he _realise I'm blind?''_

Growling, she kicked at the spot where Apollo was once at, sending up dust and grime— until a sense of calm overcame her and the anger subsided. Perhaps what she'd said was an excuse to berate her brother Apollo. But if what he claimed was true, then…

 _A rapist was on the loose. In the shore, swimming away from the scorpion Apollo summoned. He had raped a maiden._

 _A maiden under her dome of protection._

At the thought, her blood boiled. Even if she didn't trust Apollo, she couldn't let a rape be unavenged—especially with the rapist still alive, and within her reach. He was merely on the shores of Crete, swimming away for the sake of his disgusting life—away from his crime, his life, his justice.

 _What protector would I be if I let a rape pass… just like that?_

Gripping her bow and twinging the string in her hand, she unsheathed the weapon. Her silver arrows clattered anticipatedly in her quiver, as she found her bearings and headed for the west.

 _Time to hunt him down_ , she thought grimly.

* * *

 **A/N:** And the climax comes!

I'd like to thank **Guthans** (again!) for the review—and I completely agree with you! Maybe some part of Apollo does want to protect Artemis, but his motives generally wound back to the fact that he just can't stand seeing her hang out with someone other than himself.

Code Name Verity is totally whack, but... I'm still processing. It's such a good story. Depressing in all the right ways. :D

Thanks for reading! :')


	12. Stringed Moon

She went to the Crete's shores.

She remembered her trips with Orion here, to admire the stars and watch the beautiful seas at the beautiful night. But today, it would be tainted by the rapist's existence—a barrage into their peace, a stain in their memories.

She growled. She won't let that happen.

And she needed to avenge the maiden's virginity—for the rapist couldn't take it just like that. He couldn't just barrage in, ruin her life, and leave with no sense of consequence. _Males_ , she thought bitterly.

Not all of them were evil. But this one definitely was, and definitely deserved her punishment. And even if she was blind; it didn't mean that she couldn't avenge the maiden.

Relying on her senses of sound, she let all else fade; the crashes of water against rock, the laps of water against sand, the wind causing tides to surface. It was a natural gift from gods— and although they didn't use it much— _for why would you want to deafen a rowdy crowd?_ —Artemis was incredibly glad that she learned how to use and harness the skill.

She pinpointed the laps of water; the sound of swimming, as the man bobbed through the water. The sounds of hands, as he waded through the vast sea. The sounds of kicks; of disturbed water as he tread through the sea.

Drawing her bow and nocking an arrow, she focused on the sound. On how it faded distantly as time passed. On how far the sound came from, as she thought of the level she would have to yell at in a distance for Orion to hear. On the rhythm of the sound, like the beats in a slow, distinct song.

She focused on the rhythm. His arms began to slow as the sounds quieted still—he was tiring. He had to get to shore soon. And when he did, she would be ready.

A sharp moment passed, with nothing but the rhythms of his sound reverberating in her mind. She drew breath, as she pulled back the string of her bow.

 _Was she wrong? What if she couldn't catch him?_

No. She wouldn't let that happen.

 _What if he escaped?_

He couldn't. Not when she was so close; and he was so far away. She couldn't be so close to earning justice for the maiden; and let that escape, all at once.

 _What would Orion say?_

 _He would tell you to catch him. He would pinpoint his location to you; he would trust you for he was terrible at the bow; and he would cheer you on._

A rueful smile escaped her lips.

Suddenly she felt it; just a tiny change, a break in the quieted waters, a sharpened churn in her ear—as the laps adjusted to the left.

She let the arrow release.

A shrill scream pierced through the waning dusk, and she smiled. But all too fast, all too soon her smile dropped when she recognised the of the scream—a sound, once so deep and melodic— twisted viciously with fright and fear.

She let loose a horrifying scream.

She dived into the waters, ignoring the waves that threatened to drown her, as she desperately pinpointed the gurgling, struggling sound.

 _She shot him. She shot Orion._

A gasp escaped her when what she'd done fully registered in her mind, Tasting the salty, metallic blood in the water, the vicarious image of Orion's body tormenting her mind— a desperate stream flowing from his forehead with an arrow protruding from his head, sinking to the depths of the insurmountable sea, never to be seen again.

 _No._

Artemis struggled to surface the ravaging waters, like an unholy shriek as it mourned devastatingly for its son.

Dimly, she felt the waters overtake her. Water struggled in her lungs; as the metallic taste of blood— _Orion's blood—_ stung her tongue.

 _Drowning. Is this how I die?_

And when she was about to give up; to let the water surge in and end the painless torment—cold, dead skin bumped into hers.

She almost let out a ragged cry, and doing so let out the air in her lungs; but she grasped for the cold hand, what was once pounding with life now reduced to damp pale cold.

Biting back whatever breath was left in her lungs, and grasping his cold hand like it was a lifeline, she dragged his flailing body to the surface as her lungs screamed for breath.

She gasped for breath once she surfaced. Her head-splittingly in pain, she could only gasp for breath and swim blindly as the heavens above rumbled, rain poured on her wet skin and thunder struck the night.

The once-peaceful dusk was replaced with the dark night.

The multitude of sounds were loud and heavy and pounding now so ferociously more than before—and she couldn't make out her bearings; couldn't tell where she was; couldn't see the shore.

 _Give up. What's the point anymore?_

* * *

What was the point? Orion was dead. She was blinded by the sun, deafened by the thunder, and hopelessly lost. She was as good as dead as an immortal can ever be.

Artemis wanted to release the body and let herself rest with him—to a world more blissful than the one she lived in. But before she could let go, a soft warmth amidst the cold enveloped her, and her eyes hollered with pain—but when the pain subsided and the fog lifted, she could see again.

She was in the middle of a thrashing sea, as tides surged forth at the command of the Moon, a force of two pairs working against them—the son of Poseidon and the Moon goddess respectively—threatening to drown them in their own swirl of grief. Groaning with pain as she coughed the blood out of her lungs, she scanned through the grieving waters for shore.

Relief flooded through her when she found the shore—it was far, but still reachable—but rage overcame her once she saw the man on the shore.

It was Apollo, in his spiteful glory and light, that returned her with sight at the fall of dusk. Just by the sight of him made her stomach churn and her lungs to scream. Growling with unbridled hate, she swam to shore, at a renewed vigour—but not for the sake of Orion, or herself—but to take ahold of her brother and strangle his neck herself.

It would be payment for his trickery, lies and murder, once and for all.

Hate bubbled in her veins, a fever of sadness and rage and hate she had not felt since Orion's death. Grasping Orion's cold arm in her hands, a steely rage overcame her, as her heart resolved with stone.

She would deal him the same cold he dealt with Orion.

Apollo deserved to die.

* * *

 **A/N:** And here we go... oh boy. It's gonna be pretty crazy.

I'd like to thank **Guthans** and **Silver566** for your reviews! To answer the question... well, this isn't the finale per-se but the climax. We'll be dealing with the implications of Orion's death later on in the next few chapters.

Thank you for reading!


	13. Bitter Night

The moonlight was murky and dark.

Which, perhaps, it was supposed to be. It reflected the state of its goddess; hatred boiling in her veins, murky thoughts floating in her head, and darkness spewing from her aura, no pause let to come.

'' _APOLLO!''_ she growled, voice dragging like a knife through rock. She heard steps quicken on her northeast; and she almost smiled at his mistake.

'' _I… will… kill… you,_ '' she gritted out, pain and hurt and anger and torment and tears straining her voice. '' _Make no mistake. I will.''_

But she didn't run.

She drew her bow, and let the arrow fly straight.

…

…

…

Nothing.

There was nothing.

As she heard a blast of yellow light; and she let out an anguished cry; for the stars, for the moon, for the sea and for the sun that paid no heed to his death.

* * *

His body was cold.

 _No._

His lips were blue.

 _No._

His head was matted with blood.

 _No._

He was dead.

 _No!_

* * *

His mechanical eyes were the only thing that survived the silver arrow.

* * *

She grabbed the reins of her chariot and rode through the midnight stars. Ignoring the tears that stained her eyes, and the golden blood painting the reins; she took the Chariot through the black night.

 _Aphrodite. Apollo. Poseidon. Zeus._

 _ **Orion.**_

 _All the faces echoing in the dark._

Choking back a sob, and screwing her eyes shut from the damn _memories,_ she focused on the bloody reins and driving the chariot through the night sky.

But the thoughts haunted her like a broken soul; never leaving; not letting go.

 _He was accused of rape on the isle of Crete, by trying to rape a princess who was already betrothed._

How did she not see this? How did she not see that he was alluding to Orion; once the words of _rape_ exited his mouth?

 _He had also once befriended a sworn maiden, but only to betray her when he forced himself upon her._

The maiden was _her_. But not her all the same—but to Apollo, it wasn't a physical rape. It was a symbolic rape when he vandalized her mind with ideas of _happiness_ and fellowship and love…

 _It's your choice if you want to kill him or not, as such problems are no part of me or my domain. I just figured that you couldn't let that scoundrel live._

 _Her choice._ He was deflecting the blame back to her. He was establishing that it was her choice; not his; and no one else's. It was _she_ that killed Orion, _she_ that shot the arrow; _she_ with the stained blood on her hands. While he got off scot-free with his lies and trickery.

(But it was her fault, wasn't it? For trusting him at all?)

She shouldn't have let him live. Even if he was a damned immortal, he deserved every bit of hell in Tartarus. She should've shot him, there and then—with a mark of Imperial Gold and no mercy in her heart to show.

 _I figured that you couldn't let that scoundrel live._

 _He_ wanted her to kill Orion, for he felt she was tainting herself. Her ideals. Her vows. Everything she stood for. And thus, that meant that the mortal deserved to die; for daring even to touch the maiden goddess.

Her brother _figured_ that she _had_ to kill him—for in _his_ eyes Orion was ruining her, and to him, she had no mind to see it otherwise. Only until she stepped out of the rose-tinted glasses and shot him in the head could she understand her delusions—but in that chance, she killed anything of semblance to herself.

 _Damn you, Apollo,_ she thought bitterly, as the night sky howled with the screams of a thousand souls. _You've never hurt me physically, but hurt me with words you will; wreck my mind you will; murder me on the inside you will; is that why you became the God of Prophecies?_


	14. Sliver Heart

She left for Olympus.

She left Orion's rotting body glowing in the tainted stairs.

There was nothing else she could do.

* * *

Artemis dragged herself to the throne room. Only Zeus and Poseidon was present, and all for the better. She didn't need a pantheon of gods staring her down.

She couldn't— _didn't want to_ bear the pain in Poseidon's eyes, didn't want to see his rage or anger or the hate. So for the first time in her life she shut her eyes, and wished she was blind.

Her face puffy, eyes red with tears, she said to the two gods present: ''Orion is dead.''

Poseidon nearly threw a wave of rage right there and then. She didn't flinch; but closed her broken eyes and imagined the cost of his mourn; all the Greek ships massacred; thousands drowning beneath his wrathful waves because he cried of his son's death.

 _Because of her._

''What happened, Artemis?'' Zeus' voice was heavy, but mingled with concern. Artemis took a deep breath, and thought of Poseidon's face. _The anger. The rage. The hate._

And the lies spilled out of her mouth.

''He boasted to the stars that he could kill all the wild's game,'' Artemis said, voice constricted. ''And Gaia uprooted a scorpion to prove him wrong.''

Once the words were said, guilt slashed through her heart. Her damned bow in her hand and the tainted scar on her palm, she gritted her fists hard so the blood— _Orion's blood—_ wouldn't show.

''I'm sorry.'' Zeus rumbled. _No._ He could tell, couldn't he? Paranoia struck her clammy heart. Didn't he know lies? Couldn't he read minds? Couldn't he know that she—killed— _him_?

Daring to open her eyes, she stole a glance at Poseidon. Poseidon looked regretful—sorry, even, for what would he think if his son had threatened the wild— _her_ domain?

 _But he didn't. He just lived. And died because she interrupted his life, barraged in like a feral animal, and left him dead with a silver arrow in his forehead._

 _No._

''It is not your son's fault,'' she said quickly, breathlessly, and almost berated herself for it. Fingering the bowstring, tightening her fist as the blood— _Orion's blood—_ ran down the curves of her hand, she couldn't believe that the other gods haven't _seen it_ yet _._

Her murder. Her lies. His death.

And she was supposed to be the blind one.

The bowstring went taut against her bloody palm. Her knuckles went white from the pressure she put on her fist, as far as she dared hope the gods haven't seen the blood on her hands. _Your fault._

 _ **Your**_ _fault._

''For what it's worth… I'm sorry,'' she said, but not for what they thought she was apologising for. She wasn't apologising for not protecting him; nor was it for not keeping him safe. _I'm sorry._ _I'm sorry I didn't see it. I'm sorry I didn't see the lies till it was too late._

 _I'm sorry I murdered your son._

''Thank you for your cooperation, Artemis,'' and her heart pounded wildly as sweat glistened from her forehead, because _by the gods_ they knew, didn't they? They knew it all. Her lies. Her murder. The blood on her hands. And they were just playing her, toying with her because they _could and moreover, she deserved it_.

 _Just get it over with,_ she thought bitterly. _Throw me into Tartarus for all I care. I deserve it._

''Artemis…'' Zeus began. The concern in his voice became apparent. She prepared herself for the condemnation; prepared herself to raise her hands and show the council Orion's stained blood and confess—because she had enough of the lies, of the paranoia, and of herself.

''Are you alright?''

Her eyes opened, and she realized the blood was golden.

* * *

She left the throne room.

Traversed the halls. Tracing the cold marble walls that stung her fingers—but the cold was precisely the only feeling left in her hard heart.

Left to her thoughts, and memories. Memories of which were too painful to envision; thoughts which were too unstable and dangerous.

Instead, she found herself thinking about her friends. _Apo—Athena. Persephone..._

Something clicked.

She remembered Aphrodite's curse, all too long ago, but exerting its presence still in the midst of her forbidding night.

 _Man one befriends and dooms to its death._

 _Scarred by your bow and silver heart._

 _Heartbreak will break you._

''Aphrodite!'' Artemis screamed, crashing into the Love Goddesses' room. All of it was shades of pink and purple which shone vicariously through the cracked windows of her mind. She couldn't be more revolted. But now there was only one goal in mind.

'' _HOW DARE YOU?!_ '' She growled and suspended the unsuspecting goddess by the neck. Aphrodite choked for words, but she was too dazed to see her appearance to do anything about it.

'' _ **You tricked me.**_ _YOU FOOLED ME INTO LOVING THAT..._ _ **MAN**_ _!_ '' Artemis smashed the Love Goddess into one of the veiled walls. All too soon, all too fast, she felt her vision blur and her mind swirl. ''I will throw you into Tartarus a dozen times for what you've done,'' she snarled— a threat so vague, so common, so easily said; but she was determined to follow her promise.

Aphrodite gurgled, and amidst her panicked, frequent breaths she heard her choke out: ''it… wasn't me…''

''Wasn't you, huh?'' Artemis growled. ''Then how do you explain this?'' She pointed to her fragmented eyes, now glowing with a degree of silver rage. '' _The eyes of eternal flame,_ '' she recited, anger frothing dangerously in her words.

''Or Orion?'' she growled, her voice guttural, only the slightest inch of willpower holding her back. '' _An ornate man one befriends and dooms to his death,''_ she screamed, hiding the choke in her words. '' _ **What about that?!**_ ''

When there was no response, she let loose a guttural roar and slammed her against the veiled wall, as the fluttering silk descended across the chamber, like a flittering dance; fleeting under the Moonlight's sporadic rays.

''Or hell, what about this?!'' She threw her palm into Aphrodite's tearing eyes and forced her to stare at the jagged scar that ravaged her skin, marked by her bow and stained by Orion's dying blood. '' _Scarred by your bow and silver heart?''_

The rage became blinding. She let out a guttural howl, and curling her fist in a ball, slammed it at Aphrodite's face.

 _Heartbreak will break you._

The inconstant ringing in her ears and the shedding vision of hers dropping a shade dark, ''I hope you're happy,'' she breathed heavily, the last line ringing in her ears, amid Aphrodites' heavy pants. ''And I don't want to see you ever again.''

She slammed the door, broken hinges and all, and stalked off to a world before the whole mess began.

…

…

…

''It was all of your own doing, Artemis,'' Aphrodite chuckled bitterly when the Huntress's steps no longer echoed the hallways.

Massaging her jaw, she murmured: ''The curse was an empty threat. It was you who did it all.''

* * *

 **A/N:** My apologies about the late update! Was a bit busy recently.

Hopefully you liked the chapter!


	15. Foray into the Stars

Orion always wanted to navigate. He had talked about creating better tools, for navigation that didn't need to be charted by the Ursa Major. He told her it was unreliable; and in a sea of stars at night, how would you know you were looking at the right one?

When she immortalized Orion in the night's sea, she granted his wish. His stars glowed brightly through the winters and springs, brighter than the Dwarf Stars that had stolen the sky; and late at night when there was only blind darkness and all hope felt lost, his star illuminated through the patchwork of black, annoyingly persistent like it wouldn't give up.

Orion's constellation was navigable when the Ursa Major couldn't. His constellations that twinkled in the Northern Hemisphere made the task of navigation easy; finding South, East or West could be found through Orion's Sword, a nebula of stars in the center of the constellation—the nursery where new stars were born.

He saved people. The quiet, unaccounted constellation of the night. The constellation that showed that, perhaps, there were more ways than just one.

The one thing he couldn't do while he was alive; he could do in death.

And since then, she had navigated by Orion's star.

* * *

Now, five millennia later, as Artemis contemplated it all, from the blindness to the love to his death, she wondered.

It began innocuously enough, like a fairytale. But it wasn't one; it was reality, and it was what made the fleeting fairytale spiral and crash in its descent into the harsh world.

 _One man's sin. Two harmless laughs. Three winter months. Four dead eyes._

 _Their mistakes._

And what did she feel about that?

 _What did she feel about him?_

What did she feel? She didn't remember.

She couldn't remember. The only feeling she felt was a dull, panging sadness that resonated in the void of her heart—but that was all.

She couldn't remember why she loved him.

She couldn't remember his love.

She couldn't remember the feeling of his touch.

 _Why did she only feel after his death?_

He loved her. She knew that. It was a fact, taken without a doubt. It was what caused his inevitable death.

But did she love him back?

In the day of his death, she said yes. _Yes_ , she loved Orion. _Yes_ , she, a man-hating, maiden goddess managed to love a man.

But time was a skepticist; when the years passed, and centuries came and went, and the centuries stretched in millennia, she wondered. And she had a lot of time to think.

Was Apollo right about her being in the wrong state of mind? In his words, her loss of vision led to a weakness—one that could be used. Used was but an euphemism for _exploited_. It gave an opportunity for Orion to get close to her, as an atonement for his past crime inflicted on a maiden—by hunting with the Maiden goddess herself.

Was she too blinded by the flurry of emotions generated from the loss of sight? Did her emotions lead her to believe—that she loved the only one who empathised?

And as she mourned his life; as doubt seeped into the caverns of her bones, as the clicks of the whirring mechanism quietly buzzed in dawn, she wondered: _Did she love him at all?_

* * *

'' _Survive in the stars,'' she had said, as she let his heavy body be carried into the midnight sky. ''The world must remember. It has to.''_

 _The Moon Goddess choked back her tears, and watched the starry night for the thousandth time._

* * *

 **FIN.**

* * *

 **A/N:** I'd like to thank you all for reading—especially **Silver566** and **Guthans** for all your reviews, and **Sarjoo06** , **Notyou21** , and **Guest** for your comments! This has been quite the journey, and I'm so glad all of you enjoyed the story as much as I did writing it!

Before you go, I'd like you to answer Artemis' question. Did she really love Orion, or was it a delusion from her heart?

Thank you for reading! :D


	16. Author's Note - A Missing Scene is Up!

**Author's Note:** Hello everyone! Just would like to leave a note that a missing scene for Blind Stars is up! You can find it on my profile as **The Silver Bull.** It is about Artemis and Orion's foray into the Labyrinth, where Artemis' white blindfold came to be.

I also have to thank everyone for your answers (and solid reasoning!) to answer Artemis' question—and it's nice to see your opinions on Artemis' feelings about Orion. :D Whether it be true love, fleeting love, requited love or just love plain and simple, she did love Orion, if not a few millennia ago. The only question is which. :D

Thanks for reading, and hopefully I'll see some familiar faces over at **The Silver Bull**! :D

~ Firedawn


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